


I'm Sorry, You're Dying

by SaltySadness



Series: Ego Time [11]
Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Catchphrase Used, Electrical Shock, Gun Violence, Host was blamed for Author's Actions, Iplier is Slightly Possessive, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Murder, Past Torture, Poor Host, Revenge, Shooting, Tasers, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence, only slightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySadness/pseuds/SaltySadness
Summary: Iplier doesn't take kindly to people who take what's his.
Relationships: Author | Host & Dr. Iplier (Markiplier TV), Dr.Iplierst - Relationship
Series: Ego Time [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166378
Kudos: 4





	I'm Sorry, You're Dying

Oh, the good doctor was pissed. He was looking for his boyfriend all morning, when he realized that the Host was gone. Host never left the manor unless he had a reason. At least, he never left willingly. This caused a bit of a panic amongst the household. After all, it is not every day that one of the most powerful entities in the world simply vanishes. 

Host, on the other hand, was not having a good day. He groaned when he awoke, leaning his head back against the chair he was in. It was then he remembered he had gone to bed before sleeping, and he definitely remembered actually lying down. He sat up, but hissed a little when he yanked at his wrists, bound behind him and to the chair. He furrowed his brow, the dawning realization of what was going on upon him. He couldn't see or hear anything, his head aching for no reason he could remember. 

Someone stepped into the room, their footsteps echoing through the empty area. Host cringed at the noise, not helping the pain he was feeling. "Who is there? The Host demands to know." 

"Is that the name you're using now? 'The Host'? That's fucking stupid. Surely you could have come up with better." 

"What-?" He was hit, the voice right in front of him now. He turned his head with the force of the smack, wincing. 

"Don't play dumb with me, Author." 

It dawned on him what was going on, "He is after the Author. The Host assumes the Author did something to him or a loved one?" 

"Wow, congrats. You figured it out, huh? Can't believe you didn't think I'd find you after what you did to my brother." 

"...Would it be awful for the Host to ask which one was his brother?"

He was hit again. Well, he felt he deserved that one. It didn't stop the cheeky grin that formed on his face. 

"What, you think this is fucking _funny_?! You're sick. Completely sick." 

"Sorry, sorry. The Host just couldn't help himself. He is not the Author. Every action the Author committed, the Host does not condone. He despises the Author." 

"Uh-huh, sure. Even with this fancy coat and dumb little injury, you're still the Author through and through." 

Host frowned, not liking where this was going. He began muttering under his breath, determined to get out, when he discovered his powers were useless. The other laughed, and the Host could only assume he was grinning. 

"I found someone to put up a protective, anti-magic barrier around this place. Nobody can teleport in. Nobody can use magic to get out. Nobody can track you. Well, nobody but me. You may notice it causes a little migraine." 

"And how did he remove the Host from his own bed?" 

"Same person was able to do that as well. I think it's time to pay, don't you?" 

Host began to struggle against the bonds now, knowing this was far more serious than he first thought. As he fought, something cold was pressed to his throat. Before he could say anything, the man hit something and send an electrical current through the Host. It ripped a scream out of him. After a few full seconds, his world disappeared. 

Iplier was in full-on panic mode at this point. Where would his beloved be? He practically tore apart the library and Host's room in search. It was then he noticed a pair of muddy footprints in the ground outside Host's window, leading away into the distance. And Iplier knew damn well nobody in the house wore shoes with that pattern. He narrowed his eyes, connecting the dots. Someone took his boyfriend. And he was going to find out why. 

When Host awoke, he was kneeling. It was highly uncomfortable. When he tried to move, he found his hands tied to a solid, flat surface. He pulled against the restraints. As he scrunched up his face in concentration, he noticed the feeling of blood dripping onto his outstretched arms. _Had he already bled through his bandages?_ That is when it occurred to him, his face felt naked. His sockets were exposed, bandages removed. 

"Glad to see you're awake!" 

Host jumped at the voice, trying to turn and see the person. He laughed, kicking Host in the back. It forced Host to lean over, pulling at the hands splayed out at an angle above him. It didn't feel good. 

"These hands... they've caused so much. So much suffering and pain. I've met other victims of yours too. Well, the very few you let go. I don't think someone like you deserves these hands." 

Host gritted his teeth, "The Host has already paid the price for the Author's actions! Did this fucker miss the two gaping holes in his face?" 

"You ought to watch your tongue before I cut that out too." 

"...Too?" 

There was a cold, sharp metal against his hands, against his left pinkie. The metal left his finger, going straight up. 

"I'm going to enjoy every last moment of this." 

The metal came down fast and hard. 

Everyone avoided Iplier as he stocked up on first aid and weapons. He had the look of someone on the verge of murder and they knew he meant business. None wanted to be the one who faced the wrath by getting in the way. He let Dark know where he was going, then left to follow the trail. 

Eventually, Iplier came upon an older building, its original purpose unknown. However, it looked big and empty. As he stepped up to the door, he felt a buzzing feeling. A magic barrier. He has seen and felt enough of these to identify one immediately. Well, it would work if he was in any way magic, he supposed. Luckily for him, he was just an angry boyfriend with a gun. He stepped through the barrier with ease, kicking in the door without much effort. 

The sight he walked up to was horrific. Host was hunched over, tied in a weird position of kneeling, with his hands tied to a table above him. Well, part of his hands. His left hand was _gushing_ blood from where his pinkie finger was supposed to be. His bandages were gone as well, lap filling with blood. A man with shaggy blond hair stood over him, grinning madly as he stood over Host with a bloody knife. Host was whimpering, which seriously ticked Iplier off. How dare this fucker hurt his boyfriend?

Iplier involuntarily gasped as he saw the man hold the knife above Host's next finger, causing the man to turn to Iplier. He paused, seeing the gun, and instantly grabbed Host. He held the knife up in the direction of Host's neck before Iplier could even aim. 

"You'll have to shoot him to get me. I'll kill him if you try to get any closer. Now, who the fuck are you, and what do you want with us?!" 

"My name is Dr. Iplier. That there is my boyfriend. I demand you let him go before I riddle you with bullets." 

"Your _what_?! You would date this... this monster?!" 

"...I get it now. Well too bad buddy, the Author is fucking dead. I know because I was the one who last saw him alive." 

Thank god Host was in pain because he would definitely snort at the insinuation that Iplier was the one who killed Author, and give this all away. The man scowled. 

"I don't believe you for one goddamn second. Even if this somehow isn't the Author, this is the Author's body. And a whole lot more people than just you want him to suffer." 

Host vaguely knew what was happening, the blood loss making things sound underwater. However, he was aware enough to know Iplier was distracting the man. What he wanted the Host to do, he couldn't figure it out. So he did the best that came to mind: when the man responded to Iplier, he leaned down and buried his teeth into the arm holding the knife. 

The man cried out, knife going up and cutting straight into Host's cheek. It caused a deep gash across his cheekbone before the man dropped the knife. Host dropped to the floor the moment he was let go, and Iplier aimed at the man. The man held his arm, taking a step back and turning to Iplier. 

"Doc, if you really know what the Author has done, then you would know he needs to be put down!" 

"I would help you, I really would. But just from looking at you, I can tell you have a condition that will make me regret helping you." 

"Wh- what?!" 

Iplier grinned, "I'm sorry, you're dying." 

He pulled the trigger. 

Iplier wrapped Host's hand and face up with bandages, hoping to stifle the blood flow. He helped Host out of the building, Dark appearing to them when they were far enough out of the barrier to track them. Host very quickly passed out from blood loss and had to be teleported to the infirmary. 

He took some time to recover, but eventually was healed enough to get stitches out. However, a pale, jagged scar was left across his cheek, and his finger was still gone. He surprisingly didn't mind, it was just more to distance himself from the Author. However, from now on he slept in Iplier's room or the library, and he avoided knives more than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> POV: Iplier says his stupid catchphrase and shoots you


End file.
